And They Lived
by AndIllWriteYouATragedy
Summary: The Doctor has a lot to deal with. But he's not alone, not today. Not when River Song has the same amount to deal with right now. The immediate reaction to the fate of the Ponds. Spoilers for The Angels Take Manhattan.


**The Doctor has a lot to deal with. But he's not alone.**

**I don't own much, not that that helps anything legally. I'm also my own editor and everything, so any problems are mine.**

**'So, without further gilding the lily and with no more ado, I give to you,' the story!**

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The Doctor sat. For once in his goddamn life, the Doctor sat himself down and stayed there quietly. River controlled the TARDIS right before his eyes, but he did not see her, not really. On one of the steps leading from the hallways of the TARDIS to the console, delicate ankles crossed, one arm draped across a leg, the other hand holding his head up, with the elbow gingerly placed at the end of his thigh for support, sat the Doctor.

"Doctor-" River began to say, but when the Doctor dragged his head over to meet her eyes, she did not finish whatever it was she was going to say. "Oh, Doctor. You look like a lost little boy."

The Doctor closed his eyes and let his forehead come down to rest on his forearms, for once not saying a single word. River yanked one handled red lever forward and came over to sit beside him.

"It's not fair." The Doctor whispered into his arms. River shifted closer to him so their sides were lined up together, and she gently put her arm around his shoulders.

"I know. But it was their time, Doctor." River assured him, moving her forehead to rest against the side of his head. "They never stay. You know that."

"But they need to live, River." The Doctor lifted his head, and River scooted backwards a little. "Them especially."

"They lived a good life." River offered, but the Doctor was already on his feet, storming towards the console, River hot on his heels. "What are you doing? Doctor!"

"I am going back to get them." The Doctor answered with conviction. River grabbed at his hands, but he jerked them away and began typing into one of the screens.

"You'll tear apart New York." River reminded him, but the Doctor continued working.

"I _need_ to get the Ponds." The Doctor insisted, reaching over to flip a switch. River grasped his wrist before he could, and he turned to her with all the wrath she knew he had. The storm that everyone else saw coming, the hugest threat to well-being, with shadows on his face and in his mind, was now fully directed at her. River, to her credit, did not flinch.

"You read the gravestone. It's fixed." River told him softly. She watched the fury seep out of him all at once. "Doctor, you know it is."

"That doesn't make it right." The Doctor murmured, reaching out with his free hand and clearing the screen. River released his wrist, and he simply began to stare blankly at the screens.

"Being angry won't save them." River said gently. The Doctor glared at her, the effect strengthened by the tears in his eyes and tracking down his face.

"But I am angry." The Doctor looked down at his hands. "I'm _so angry_, River."

"You can't save everyone." River told him gingerly. "They saved themselves the only way they knew how. Doctor, everybody dies."

"Not while I have anything to say about it." The Doctor mumbled in reply. River smiled slightly.

"That's my boy." River leaned in and kissed right above his ear. The Doctor shook her off, shook his head.

"No, don't... Don't _do_ that, River." The Doctor moved away from her, sliding to the rails and gripping the highest bar in his hands. He held tight to the frosty metal until his knuckles turned white with the effort.

"Why not?" River asked, keeping her distance from him and smartly staying by the console.

"Because it's not right." The Doctor whispered, bowing his head over his hands. River fell silent as he gathered his breath, and she knew he was not actually talking about her actions. "They were your parents. It's not_ right_, River!"

"I know." River agreed softly. "Sweetie, I know."

The Doctor whipped around, storming back to the stairs before returning just as swiftly, as though he just did not know what to do with himself. He clutched his head between two tight fists and fluidly folded in himself, collapsing like a folding chair, falling to his knees.

"Why them?!" The Doctor shouted at the grated floor. "Why did it have to be _her_?!"

"Because it was always her. For this face, Doctor, it was her." River answered as she began to back away, edging along the console.

"Don't leave." The Doctor murmured without looking up. "Don't walk away from me like I'm a monster or a bomb. Don't you do that to me."

River paused and stood stock-still behind him, frozen to the spot. She bit her lip deeply and moved forward a couple of steps.

"You are a bomb." River told him, finally. The Doctor exhaled slowly.

"I know." He whispered, grinding his knuckles into the sides of his head. "And it killed them."

"Natural causes killed-" River began, but the Doctor shook his head jerkily.

"It killed them." The Doctor repeated. "I killed them."

River did not disagree this time. She did not move any closer, either, but nor did she move further away. She merely remained present while he fought himself.

"This is what happens. People die." The Doctor mumbled, and River was not sure whether or not he was still speaking to her. "Amy. Rory. Donna doesn't... and Rose is... and who knows where..." The Doctor's sentences were breaking themselves off part of the way through as he began gasping for air. "River."

River fell to her knees beside him, pulling him close to her side. "You're not alone."

"Yes, I am." The Doctor whispered. River chose not to answer, shifting him instead so that his head was in her lap and he was laying on his side on the uncomfortable metal floor. He remained curled into a ball, his face pressed into her thighs and his hands clutched to his chest as he cried.

River began to run her fingers through his hair, humming an old song she remembered from her mother. She traced odd patterns on his scalp, trying to be soothing for the man who could not be soothed. He fell absolutely silent, not a single noise passing his lips, not even an audible breath. He merely stared at the floor and the ends of River's folded legs with lost, dark eyes.

"Are you okay?" River asked softly. No answer came, and she was not surprised. "I know. Neither am I."

It was a long time before the Doctor said another word, though they had not moved from their positions. River's back was stiff and sore. "Rory said I was going to get her killed."

"Did he?" River asked, continuing her soft patterns on his head.

"He said I make her want to prove herself. Make me proud." The Doctor twisted his head up to look at River. "She did."

"Of course she did." River agreed, her voice gentle, as though she were talking to a small child who she was attempting to placate. "Mother was the greatest woman I ever knew."

"River, I'm sorry." The Doctor dropped his eyes from hers, returning his empty gaze back to the floor. "I'm so sorry. They were your family."

"So are you." River murmured. "Doctor, they were a little girl and a little boy who fought heaven and hell for each other, and they lived happily ever after. You know that."

"But you don't _understand_." The Doctor insisted, his fingers tangling together nervously. "They're _gone_. We will never see them again, River."

"Then that's pretty selfish of you, isn't it?" River asked, smoothing her fingers through his shaggy brown hair. The Doctor closed his eyes.

"When am I not selfish, River?" The Doctor asked softly. River did not answer, feeling the question was rhetorical and not meant to ever be answered.

"I forgive you." River said instead. The Doctor almost smiled. Almost.

"Thank you." The Doctor had a lot of responses running through his head, but he chose the least painful, the quiet show of faux acceptance. River lowered her head slowly, her back arching uncomfortable as she bent her head to his and pressed her lips to his hair.

"I love you." River whispered. The Doctor turned his head towards her and kissed her sadly.

"That's all I need." The Doctor smiled and closed his eyes again, curling into her like a small child. She laid down on her back on the cold, solid floor, dragging him with her, pulling the two survivors together for a long night. Or a day. Or six years. Who knew anymore. So long as they lived happily ever after; or, at the very least, lived.


End file.
